Oregon Fail
by Metal-Leon-Alex
Summary: When a stubborn and misanthropic driver on his way across the Oregon Trail takes along a four-man caravan of travellers, things can only go wrong. How many will survive the treacherous quest filled with battle bears, gun fights, snake bites and dysentry?
1. Prologue

Destiny has assigned me to travel along the Oregon Trail. That much was certain. But the only thing that assigned me the bizarre people I had to bring with me was Chance. I'm not naïve enough to believe in karma, but I was naïve enough to believe I could go at this without people. Chance had alternate plans and presented to me a group of four who likewise had plans to travel across the Trail. They, however, lacked a cart and after some negotiations brought on by a few nights of camping together, I decided to take them along with me.

The first was a lady named Oos. Red hair, somewhat short, but she has a rather large… presence. Quite a combative and fiery personality; a born leading lady. We had a scuffle over who would drive this wagon between the two of us, and it was not a short lived affair. I couldn't help but feel as if that was an omen. Despite this, she respected that it was my wagon we were driving, and I saluted her for that respect, although I couldn't help but feel as if my battle bears that were pulling the cart scared her off. She seemed to be extremely close to all of the members that were accompanying me, and she was, no doubt in my mind, the leader of the pack.

The second was a man one year my junior named Obby. Long brown hair, quite handsome and tall. Seemed very confident in his group, and their abilities to travel across the trail with me as their driver. I felt happy knowing he had at least _some _confidence in my abilities, but I figured he'd be more comfortable once I was out of the picture. He seemed to be one of the most outspoken members of their group, but he took a backseat to Oos.

The third was another lady named Trite. Brown hair to midneck, and fairly lanky. I seemed to relate the most to her; she was a good friend of mine when we camped together for the few days prior to leaving for the Oregon. Her name betrayed her; she wasn't trite in any way whatsoever. If something happened to me, I'd likely entrust her with the cart.

Last, but certainly not least was Nat. A very diminutive man with long brown hair and glasses. He seemed to keep mum a lot, usually stuttering in the odd time he _did_ speak. I usually shrugged him off as the smart and silent type, but he and I had a lot more in common than I realized, after I first met with his group. He was shy and kept to himself, but at the same time he was also Oos' boyfriend. Go figure.

Oos and Nat were the older members in comparison to Obby and Trite, who were around my age. I chose to be thankful for the company, no matter how bizarre.

But at the same time, I knew that the trail was treacherous and that things could only go downhill from here.


	2. Enter Trite

**Chapter 1**

Effective what I estimated to be six hundred hours, we departed.

Tumbleweeds and shadows crept along the desert plain as the sun began to peak out over the horizon, painting the surrounding skies shades of pink and red. Nat wanted to get more shuteye, and Oos, after tentative consideration curled up next to him, her head on his shoulder as the two of them slept. I would have called the scene cute under different circumstances.

Obby had his guitar on his knees and his head was tilted up, his mouth open as he softly snored, a bead of transparent saliva crawled down the corner of his lips to the side of his jaw. His mouth would soon grow dry after prolonged exposure to the dry air. Trite was not indifferent to this realization, and she lifted a hand up to close Obby's mouth and tilted his head down to make sure it kept shut. She sat back down on the other side of the cart, and looked at her friends, asleep on the left side of the cabin. She remained eerily silent as she checked the burlap sacks for our essentials; food, drink, medicine, anything.

I laughed, a small chuckle escaping from closed lips as I felt her moving around. "We didn't leave unprepared, rest assured."

"It never hurts to be precautious." She said in a soft voice, afraid of disturbing the others, or perhaps the morning atmosphere itself.

"Perhaps. But you're in good hands." I said, not laughing this time as I turned my head ever so slightly, hoping to catch her in my peripheral vision. I didn't.

"I trust you." She said, turning her head.

I remained skeptical. Trite was fairly hard to predict. "…Hm. Do you now? How many pounds of food did we-"

"One thousand." She said, interrupting me. She didn't even turn around to check.

"…Spare wheels?"

"We have enough to support another cart entirely." She said, undeterred.

"Medicine?"

"That's what I'm worried about; we only brought two units to treat any one disease." She said, looking into the medicine pouch.

"Let's worry about that when the time comes, shall we?"

"By then, it might be too late."

"…We'll buy some more medicine at the next stop, allowing." I said, rolling my eyes.

"Thank you."

"Y'welcome." I said, sighing and directing my attention back to the road. I felt shuffling in the carts floor as Trite sat next to me.

I looked at her for a split second before grunting a bit.

I partially wished for Obby to be awake. If he knew how to play the guitar, then a nice song might be nice to improve morale, or at the least, break this hellish silence. But if they remained asleep, at least they couldn't exhaust the supplies Trite was so goddamned worried about.

I couldn't deny it was a bit lonely though. Sure I had Trite to keep me company during the wee hours, but she seemed to be grilling me about our supplies more than she wanted to make friendly conversation. Perhaps she might in a more favorable mood once Oos was up.

The sun began to rise high up in the sky. The silence between me and Trite lasted for several hours, excusing the occasional question or small line of conversation. I tilted the brim of my hat down and flicked my dreadlocks up to prevent them from sticking to the sweat on my forehead.

We still made so little ground and had so much to go. I was beginning to get a little bit worried.

"_Watch yourself, Metal. It looks like Blondies worries are becoming contagious." _I thought to myself as I furrowed my brows. Trite, getting bored of my occasional grunts, sighs and moans, retired back to the back of the cabin and lay down on the bench trying to sleep.

I only wish _I _could get some sleep one of these hours. But, I suppose I was the one who wanted this job: I had to work for it too. I observed the skeletons of starved animals on the plains, fine sands polishing white bone.

I hoped and prayed none of us would join the masses of the dead.


	3. Enter Nat

**Chapter 2**

By one o'clock, every body in the cart was up and about. Nat was the last one to wake up, and even now, he seemed to be quite sleepy. Oos seemed to take delight in his moment of vulnerability. Their happiness was beginning to asphyxiate me. Perhaps the fumes from the food that Nat was preparing was doing a better job, however, and I was beginning to wish I had cut a hole in the top of the cart to allow the smoke to billow out there instead of out from above me. Of course, that would leave us vulnerable to possible precipitation, and…

I shook my head, trying to clear it. Nat crept gingerly behind me and stood up, shuddering.

"C-C-Could you please slow this thing down…?" he stuttered nervously, alternating between awkwardly crouching and standing up. In his hands, he held several strips of cow-flesh.

My respect for Nat, supplemented by the reality that Oos would rip my head off my shoulders if I did not comply, made me make an attempt at slowing down.

"Vivol! Break!" I commanded Vivol. Vivol was my prized battle bear. I rescued him from a circus as an adolescent grizzly, where he operated as an ursine gymnast. He had stayed by my side ever loyal since. I had my reservations of bringing up along, but he seemed intent on following me wherever I went. I had to obey my friend's wishes.

"Errugh!" Vivol grunted, a nasally sound as his shiny black nose flared up. Cold fire danced in the black pits that were his eyes.

"Umm…" Nat hummed. Then he did something I never expected him to.

Nat, the most softspoken member of the group _roared._

…Well, it wasn't a roar, mind you. It was more of a very impressive and threatening snarl. It could have fooled me into believing it was a feral bear anyday, and it certainly convinced Vivol, who gradually went to a slugs pace.

I looked at Nat, stoned cold at his sudden stint of ferocity.

"…So what… You speak _bear _now?"

"Goodness no." He said, granting me a smile. The guy was cute when he smiled, I must say. "I just adapt to circumstance… I had no idea Mister Bear would respond…" he simply said, not wanting to be the center of attention for too long. He got to work, tacking strips of meat to the canopy of the roof with nails and a mallet.

"HisnameisVivol, and what are you doing?" I asked.

"Curing this meat. Eventually it'll be jerky for all of us to enjoy!" he said, brightening up. He must have been quite proud of putting Vivol in his place. (And I must concede, that's a difficult thing for anyone but me to do.)

"Good call, Nat." I said, surprised at Nat's strategy.

I was concerned however, that buzzards would come for the premature jerky, but Nat brought a broom in case things got dirty; and I'm pretty sure that it would come in handy.

Perhaps I would give Vivol part of my ration as a small treat. But then, even for his species he wasn't used to large portions of food. Perhaps he was starved in the circus? Who knows. Either way, I was glad to have such a creature as a friend.

…I couldn't help but wish I could speak bear like Nat could. It would certainly come in handy whenever Vivol seemed unpredictable.

But then, it's always nice, really, to know someone else who speaks your language; figuratively or literally.


	4. Enter Obby

**Chapter 3**

By three o'clock, Nats face was peppered with pink lipstick marks and he had a hickey with the diameter of a peach on his slender neck. I was one for romance, and all the petty advances brought out with it, but I'd prefer it if Oos and Nat decided to bring it outside of the cart, or when we decided to stop to camp. Driving a bumpy cart was beginning to take its toll on my arse, and Vivols back must have been breaking.

I told them to at least wait until night, where we could camp, but as Oos indignantly observed, "You can be as loud as the fuck you want when you're making love." And that was all she wrote.

The beef that Nat hung hours ago was beginning to dry; its secreted juices dripped down and landed on the driver's bench, where it shone in the sun before sliding off the polished wood like perspiration and melting away underneath. Nat was initially kind enough not to hang any strips above me to prevent any dripping from falling on me, but I was wearing a hat to cover me, so I allowed it.

Somewhere behind me I could hear Obby strumming the strings of his guitar and humming, as his dry song filled the desert air.

"I fall cause I let go, The net below has rot away, So my eyes seek reality, And my fingers seek my veins…" he sang softly against the beat of Trite's clapping and the sounds of his guitar. She joined in for the next verse.

"The trash fire is warm, But nowhere safe from the storm, And I can't bare to see, What I've let me be; So wicked and worn…"

Between the guitar, Trites clapping, the whistling winds, Nats harmonica, and Vivols heavy paws smashing into dry ground, everything seemed harmonious and all a part of a grander performance that made a simple ditty on guitar sound all consuming and universal.

Music is truly an all powerful thing. I allowed myself a loss of inhibition to hum along with the singing. When the song ended, there was laughter among all of us heading into the evening.

"Hey, Mister Stone Face cracked a smile." Obby said, laughing. I laughed back, shaking his hand, not sure if he was kidding or not.

Probably not, though. He _was _calling me stone faced after all.


	5. Enter Oos

**Chapter 4**

Evening saw the sun set to the west, the canyon walls to our left and rights seemed to shut out all of the dangers and distractions. The walls seemed to be black and the sky was red and orange as it faded away into night. The beef was now completely dry and Nat came up one last time to pick it off the awning, making idle conversation as he did so before giving me a piece to give Vivol as a treat and sitting down to go to sleep. Obby continued to sing Metallica songs that entertained us, but has ceased doing so in favor of making small talk with Trite, who was once again, reviewing supplies like a bad habit.

My train of thought was interrupted as Oos sat up next to me.

I looked at the red-head skeptically, surprised that she wasn't tending to Nat, talking to Trite or fooling around with Obby. Out of all the people in the cart, she seemed the least interested in me. I couldn't exactly blame her, but her suddenly talking to me suggested a deeper motive.

"So, how are you doing?" she asked me, sounding like more of a statement than a question. She tipped some water into her lips. The look in her eyes suggested she wanted something from me, and she couldn't wait to get it so she could go back to the carts benches and continue to disregard me.

"Couldn't be better, thanks. Et tu?" I said, rubbing my eyes. I was quite tired. The darkness was easy on my eyes, but Oos wasn't one to walk on eggshells and I expected the question soon enough.

"I'mdoingfine- When are we going to stop to camp?" Oos said, quickly getting to the point, and judging by the sound of her voice, she turned to look at me.

"As soon as the sun comes down and we're in a safe location. You know, for someone who's been spending a fair amount of the time resting, you seem rather eager to camp." I said, slightly snapping the reins for a small growl from Vivol in response.

"Hey. It's not easy to sleep in a rocking cart. I'd like to rest on steady ground." She said, slightly raising her voice. She didn't make eye contact, keeping a view on what was up ahead.

"Be it so. I have reservations about stopping right now though. Shall we wait until we get out of this canyon?" I said, likewise not making eye contact with her.

I liked to think that in the situation of our travelling, Oos and I carried the most power out of the five of us: After all, I was the driver, and she was the leader of their group. My mind scolded this notion, and told me that since we were all travelling together, we were all equal. I listened to it and decided to settle things democratically should Oos disagree with me.

"…Sure." She said. I was surprised that she agreed with me. "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem." I said, shrugging.

We weren't exactly the friendliest with each other, but it certainly beats disliking each other. For anyone to dislike anyone here would be disastrous since we're going to be travelling for a long time.


End file.
